A case of mistaken hostility
by Giton
Summary: The result of a Crais Round Robin by ValleyForge and GitonCrais


The following is the result of a Round-Robin-story on the Crais' Cohorts board, better known as Storyline #3, between ValleyForge and GitonCrais. To ValleyForge befell the honour of choosing the title. Enjoy reading the full story. Storyline #1 and #2 are still ongoing.  
  
We realise that all of the Farscape characters are not ours and we will give them back after use, no infringement is intended, just a love for the characters.  
  
A Case of Mistaken Hostility  
  
By ValleyForge and GitonCrais  
  
The Relgarians were six arns late, and that was five and a half arns to long to spend alone with Bialar Crais. For John Crichton, making small talk with the Sebacean ranked right up there with the annual Christmas visit from hell with Aunt Josephine. How's the cat? Bursitis still acting up? Not a hell of a lot left to do after that except twiddle your thumbs and count ceiling tile.  
  
They occupied opposite sides of the table, Crais watching the front door, while Crichton watched Crais. After an arn or so the human could pretty much identify his unlikely ally's various responses to the wide variety of visitors to the pub. The local hayseeds barely received a passing glance, as though any expression expended on their behalf was a complete waste of his precious time and energy. Ilanics and Sheyangs were a different matter. He followed them with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw until someone or thing more interesting came along. A raised brow with a smarmy shit-eating grin signalled a good-looking chick. Oh yeah...despite all that starch in his skivvies, he was a typical guy.  
  
Crichton had to give him credit...with half the galaxy on his tail it was no accident the exPeacekeeper had survived this long. The Sebacean's eyes worked the room like a hooker at Mardi Gras. The only thing that Crichton kept a closer eye on than his companion's ugly mug was his right shoulder. The microt that gun arm so much as twitched it was time to kiss the floor.  
  
Just when he thought he'd seen them all, Crais threw him a curve. Whoever had just walked through the pub door sure as hell wasn't someone the Sebacean expected to see. In fact, he looked like he needed to go change his shorts. Crichton decided he better take a look for himself.  
  
Crais' breathing suddenly became labored, the sound of it alone enough to mask the human's persistent inquiries. He told himself it simply could not be, and yet, though possible his eyes might deceive him, his heart told him otherwise. The room closed in until only the two of them existed.  
  
He thought perhaps to slip away unnoticed would be the best course of action. As he considered his options a hand landed heavily on his shoulder. He looked at Crichton and saw the look of shock on the other man's face. Crais growled. Crichton had probably been looking at him instead of the backdoor he was supposed to be watching. Why had he asked the Human to join him? There had been nothing on his face that could have warned him.  
  
Crichton winced. Okay...so he hadn't seen the drunken Gargan stagger up from behind and fall against him. He'd been preoccupied trying to see who or what was so damned interesting across the room.  
  
"Is this what you consider watching my back?" Crais growled as he knocked the Gargan's webbed digits from his shoulder sending him to a heap on the floor.  
  
"Maybe if you'd bothered to tell me what's going on."  
  
"When it concerns you, Crichton, you will be the first to know."  
  
Flexing a wry smile, he shook his head and started to his feet. "Yeah, well Mrs. Crichton didn't raise no-"  
  
"Sit down!" Crais gasped as he pushed the human backward into the chair. "Do not call attention to me." He bowed his head and cupped a hand over his brow.  
  
"Don't worry, they'll never see you hidden behind that...hand." Crichton sensed Crais was the one in trouble here, not him. Seemed like he was going to enjoy the wait after all. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the door, but Crais kicked him under the table against his shins.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"Don't draw attention to yourself, you fool," hissed Crais, "and certainly not to me! Why did I bother to listen to Aeryn."  
  
Crichton hissed back, "What do you mean, I am drawing attention to you? Do you think it's normal to hide a whole man behind one hand? Give me a break, Crais."  
  
He received another kick from Crais. "I told you not to mention my name!"  
  
"Sorry, Captain Crunch, forgot," said Crichton with a smirk. "Are you going to tell me why you're playing peek-a-boo with somebody across the room? Who'd you piss off this time, Crais...besides a couple million Peacekeepers?"  
  
The human knew Crais had no intention of telling him anything, least of all the truth. He slapped his palms on the table and leaned forward, rising slightly from the chair. "How about I just stand up and ask them?"  
  
"Don't make me have to shoot you."  
  
"That sure as hell wouldn't draw any attention, would it?" Crichton chuckled at the contemptuous look he received in response. He settled back into the chair as Crais looked up with a little more concern and totally ignoring Crichton's behavior.  
  
Crichton found it difficult to resist the urge to look behind him and when he twitched he saw how Crais' hand moved to his back. He knew that Crais had knives concealed there and he wasn't willing to try out the Captain's ire, yet.  
  
He looked back at Crais, "Are you sure it is all right for me to sit still or do I have to...  
  
"Stay exactly where you are," Crais directed him. He brought his hand out from behind him, in it a small silver amulet he retrieved from a hidden pocket in his jacket lining. He rolled the tiny talisman between his fingers, his eyes alternating between it and the far side of the pub.  
  
"Hey...I'm through playing Let's Make a Deal here. I want to know who's behind door number three and I want to know now.  
  
"You are in no danger," Crais said matter-of-factly. "In the interest of maintaining our cover I suggest you remain seated until I have an opportunity to slip out unnoticed."  
  
"Unnoticed by *who*?"  
  
He closed his fist tightly around the object and tripped a passing waiter who was carrying a tray full of drinks.  
  
The waiter tried to keep his balance but with the laden tray did not manage to do so. Several tables away from Crais' and Crichton's table he lurched against the next guest and crashed into the table and onto the floor.  
  
Everyone's attention was focused on the fallen man and the immediate bystanders were wiping the various liquids off their clothes.  
  
Crichton turned back to Crais, "Now is your chance to..." But he was looking at an empty space. Crais had already slipped out unnoticed.  
  
Crichton looked around the room but could see no sign of Crais. When he looked to the back door he saw the exPeacekeeper frantically rattling the locked door trying to open it.  
  
"Emergency only, can't you *read*?" the flustered waiter snarled as he picked up the empty tankards scattered across the floor.  
  
Crichton could see Crais' shoulders heave as he panted with frustration. He wondered if Sebaceans had strokes, because judging by the deep shade of purple creeping up the back of Crais' neck, something was about to blow. A loud voice from across the room drew his attention to a Luxan standing at the front door.  
  
"What the frell is going on here," the voice boomed, "I turn my back for microns and the whole place is falling apart!" He lifted the waiter off the floor with one massive hand and shook him like a puppy.  
  
Crichton turned back to Crais, "You better leave that door alone, the owner just walked in and he doesn't look like someone to be trifled with."  
  
Crais growled and tried one more time. Crichton could see the muscles in his arms strain and could see movement in the door. He had always believed that making Crais angry was never a good thing, seeing the strength of the man just proved it. He looked back at the door and saw him give the krelmar handle one final, massive yank. The grip snapped free in Crais' hand, however the door refused to budge. Without a word he tucked the metal rod inside his jacket and strode toward the men's elimination room with Crichton on his heels. Once inside, he spun back, shook the krelmar piece at the human and with a look of complete desperation said, "That was our last chance! We can't go back to the main room and wait for our contacts to arrive and we can't stay here."  
  
Crais looked about him quickly, looking for a way out. Desperation spurned his actions, only a small window high up their only means of escape. It was obvious that the window wasn't big enough for either of them.  
  
Crichton swivelled Crais to face him, "Are you going to tell me what is going on?"  
  
Crais practically glared at him, "Crichton, I assure you, not everyone in my past has anything to do with *you*."  
  
Crichton folded his arms across his chest and replied sarcastically. "Unless whoever is after *you* manages to screw up this mission.  
  
"You seem to forget that there is more to my life than just the Peacekeepers." A heavy sigh relaxed the harsh lines etched into his face. "I-"  
  
The woosh of a receptacle being purged in what was thought to be an empty booth spun both men around, weapons drawn. The privacy door swung open and at that exact same microt the janitor stuck his head through, well, he had to be the janitor judging by the broom and bucket he was carrying. He looked up in suspicion at the two men, "What are you two up to? This is a decent place and..." He then noticed the two pulse pistols nearly up his nose. His eyes went cross-eyed, "I didn't mean too..." He fell back of sheer panic and lost consciousness.  
  
Crais holstered his pistol and looked at the man at his feet. A smile crept over his features and an idea formed. He looked back at Crichton as he began to strip off first the janitor's coat, then trousers. "We must leave. The Relgarians should have been here arns ago. As soon as I have made my way to the front door, disguised as this lackey, you follow."  
  
"I've got a better idea," Crichton said, heading straight for the door. "I'll wait for you outside."  
  
"Crichton, wait! I am the one risking discovery. How can you assist me if you are already outside?"  
  
He rested one hand on the door and opened it just a crack, looking back at a slack-jawed Crais, who for some reason looked actually surprised at what he was about to do. "No one out there to worry about, at least...not that I'm aware of." He inched the door open a hair further.  
  
"Wait."  
  
His voice was soft this time. Hesitant.  
  
"You have my word, you are not in danger. So many years have passed that this disguise on my part may not even be necessary."  
  
Crichton allowed the door to slip shut as he aimed a finger at Crais. "I get the truth when we get back aboard Moya."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
Crais backed inside the privacy booth to support himself against the stall divider as he slipped the ample trousers over his own black leathers. Crichton bent down and grabbed the janitor, clad only in boots and shorts, beneath the arms and had begun to pull him backward when the door banged open. Crichton froze, the half naked man now slumped forward in front of him as the Luxan proprietor entered, "Rash'on where the frell..." He looked at Crichton, "What are you doing with my employee?" His nostrils flared.  
  
"He wasn't feeling too well," said Crichton sheepishly.  
  
"And that's why you stripped him," the Luxan said sarcastically. He took a step forwards, "What is going on here?"  
  
Crichton dropped the janitor who slumped in a heap on the floor; he stepped slowly backwards while the Luxan was slowly advancing on him. He grabbed Crichton by the front of his tunic and lifted him straight off the floor. "You will tell me what is going on, now!"  
  
Some smothered noises issued from Crichton's lips. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Crais slip out of the stall and move unnoticed toward the door.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" Crichton snarled at the Sebacean for running out on him.  
  
"You *dare* speak to me in that manner you...you...pervo!" The Luxan tossed Crichton against the wall, waited until he hit the floor and then grabbed him by the scruff and plunged him headfirst into an eliminator bowl. The swirling blue antibacterial solution muffled the human's scream.  
  
Crais meanwhile had carefully worked his way behind the Luxan and retrieved the krelmar door handle off the floor and pressed the handle in the lower backside of the Luxan and said with a menacing, whispery growl, "You will lift him out of the bowl and let him go or this silencer will make such a hole in this particular spot that they won't be able to put all the pieces together again."  
  
When the Luxan tried to turn around Crais pressed harder, "And don't turn around if you don't want to be liable for the aforementioned treatment."  
  
The Luxan lifted Crichton's face out of the bowl.  
  
Spluttering Crichton tried to get all the fluid out of his face and mouth. He turned to Crais and started, "You frelling vigilar... you...  
  
Having already concealed the krelmar latch inside his jacket, Crais cuffed the human soundly with the back of his hand. "That's quite enough," he growled, turning next to the Luxan. "You have my apologies. I did not realize there was anyone inside when I allowed my prisoner to use the elimination room." Crais feigned a concerned look in the direction of the janitor sprawled out on the floor. "Fortunately you intervened before he was able to ...act."  
  
The Luxan cast a suspicious eye from one man to the other.  
  
"Recreational predator," Crais stated bluntly. "I became suspicious of what was taking him so long and was on my way in to check when you interceded. I will see to it that you are well compensated for your..."  
  
"I...am...going to rip your head off and sh-"  
  
"Silence!" the Luxan shouted, dunking Crichton once more before turning to Crais and thoughtfully stroking his tentacles. "How much compensation?"  
  
Crais arced a brow suggestively. "More than adequate." He retrieved the janitor's clothing from the floor behind him and handed them to the Luxan. "Now if you will see to this unfortunate man, I have a rendezvous with a strata cruiser within the arn." Clasping Crichton's elbow, he brought the human to his feet and steered him toward the door.  
  
When he stepped from the elimination room into the pub's main chamber, the first thing Crichton saw was a striking beautiful woman who looked around at all the guests. Her raven black hair cascaded like a waterfall down her back, her pale skin was in sharp contrast. It was obvious she was looking for someone.  
  
Crichton turned to Crais and was surprised by the look of sheer horror on Crais' face. Crais steered him further into the shadows of the corridor leading off from the main room. When he had the idea that they couldn't be seen he finally let go of Crichton's arm. Crichton was wondering why Crais had paled. He definitely didn't look so well and he wondered if the woman had anything to do with it or had Crais seen something else?  
  
He looked at Crais and asked, "What the hell is your problem now?"  
  
"The Relgarians," Crais replied, his brow knitted with concern, "they have arrived."  
  
"Oh yeah...that's just *great*. You don't suppose they'll notice the tidy bowl hair rinse, do you?"  
  
"We cannot meet here."  
  
"That's right," Crichton said glibly. "Because thanks to you, Lurch out there thinks I'm PeeWee Herman."  
  
"You'll have to give the Relgarians new rendezvous coordinates."  
  
Crichton chuckled as he shook his head.  
  
"Well I certainly cannot! They are seated next to..." Crais clenched his fists and shifted his eyes away.  
  
"Don't tell me...it's that chick, isn't it?"  
  
He gave the human a curious look. "Chick?"  
  
"Congratulations, Bialar...you just won the Best Oscar for playing dumb." He gripped Crais by the shoulder and turned him toward the main room, a finger aimed directly at the pale slender figure with flowing black hair. "That one, the babe. Is she a blast from your past?"  
  
Crais' eyes and mouth shot open simultaneously. "Are you insane?" he cried out before quickly lowering his voice to a whisper. "Do you *know* what you are saying?"  
  
"Hey...maybe she was hard up."  
  
"Crichton, you idiot...that is a drannit."  
  
He mouthed the word and frowned. "Oh, I suppose I must be wrong, then," Crichton grinned. "You can always make a blast for the future."  
  
Crais looked back at Crichton and his voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "Will you stop behaving like an fool! Nobody recreates with a drannit. They are..." He didn't continue when someone else entered the corridor. To all intents and purposes they were two men having a small argument.  
  
When the man had passed Crais turned back to the matter at hand, "You will have to tell the Relgarians. We can not afford them to leave without getting what we need."  
  
"Then why don't you go out there yourself," sneered Crichton.  
  
"You know I can't," hissed Crais.  
  
"No, I know you are scared out of your mind but not why. There is a difference. Care to tell me?"  
  
"Crichton I have promised to tell you once we get back to Moya. Now go and tell the Relgarians we will meet them elsewhere. Now!" Crais ducked back in the shadows.  
  
Crichton tried to shake his hair and face into some semblance of normality and said to Crais, "You owe me big time Mister." He turned towards the main room and located the Relgarians, but was actually far more interested in the occupants of the adjacent tables. Since the pub was crowded, that only narrowed it down to twenty some patrons, many of them with their backs to him. He slowly worked the perimeter of the room, scrutinizing each face for a clue that might give him the advantage over Crais. There was no doubt in his mind that the Sebacean would stiff him when it came time to tell the truth back aboard Moya. Determined to learn Crais' secret, Crichton failed to watch where he was going and bumped into the Luxan proprietor.  
  
"You again," the man bellowed, "How did you get rid of your guardian? The same way as you did with my employee?"  
  
Crichton knew that this time Crais couldn't bail him out without showing himself. He tried to do it himself, "No, he let me go. Said something about it being a case of mistaken identity."  
  
"And I have to believe this?"  
  
"Yes. I will just say "hello" to my friends and then I will leave," Crichton oozed charmingly.  
  
The Luxan was wondering if he could let this Sebacean go. He decided to wait and see what Rash'on said when he came to.  
  
"If it is a case of mistaken identity, as you say, you'll be free to go. But if Rash'on says otherwise..."  
  
The Luxan focused his attention on the stunningly beautiful raven-haired woman for a microt, turned and grasped Crichton by the lapels, pulling him close and uttering under his breath, "We've got ways of dealing with pervos here."  
  
Crichton managed an unconvincing smile and nodded. "Like I said...a word with my friends and I'm out of here."  
  
"You will leave when Rash'on tells me that you did not try to play hide-in- go-mivonks with him. And I have men stationed at the door if you're thinking about trying to escape."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it..." Crichton said, backing away.  
  
This whole situation was going south faster than a busload of octogenarians in December and despite what Rash'on or anyone else thought, there was only one person getting screwed here...John Crichton. Crais was nowhere to be seen, which came as no surprise, so he pulled up a chair at the Relgarian's table and engaged in conversation. "Do you know the Inn of a Thousand Sighs? Very good place. Friendlier than this place." He glanced quickly at the Luxan and saw that he was waiting for Rash'on, he looked back at the Relgarians and whispered quickly, "Meet us there in two arns. The deal is still on but we were detained."  
  
He saw the Relgarians look at each other and then nod. They stood up and left the inn. Crichton breathed a sigh of relief; at least that part had gone well.  
  
He looked up when Rash'on walked up to the Luxan and looked in shock at Crichton.  
  
The Luxan asked what happened. Rash'on pointed at Crichton, "There were two of them. They were in one of the stalls. Standing very close together, Cholok knows what they would have done if I hadn't entered. They drew their pistols on me."  
  
The Luxan hauled Crichton out of the chair, "So, I am not dealing with one pervo but two. Where is your friend?"  
  
Crichton felt his breathing being seriously restricted. "No, he's not my friend. I was just following orders."  
  
"Orders? Whose orders?" the Luxan demanded.  
  
Crichton shifted his eyes nervously around the room. "That other guy was telling me about his plan to rob this joint when your janitor showed up. He was afraid that Rash'on might have heard something. He told me if I didn't go along with it, he'd shoot me. He's the one you want...the brains of the outfit."  
  
"Well that is easy enough to see."  
  
The human's face went momentarily slack. He leaned forward, his voice muffled. "He told me it'd be like taking candy from a baby... you'd be too busy recreating with the drannit to notice." He gave his head a little jerk toward the corridor.  
  
In a fit of Luxan Hyper Rage the proprietor took off toward the hallway like Elvis headed for a buffet. Crichton used the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. He considered leaving the establishment. Crais had got them in this predicament; let him find a way to get out of it.  
  
Then remorse gripped him. Crais could have slipped out of the elimination room earlier on and could have left him to be drowned, but he had stayed and told that cockamamie story to get them out. Could he now do less?  
  
With a sigh he turned around and headed back to the corridor.  
  
No one inside the pub paid the slightest bit of attention to the rampaging Luxan, who could still be heard spewing words that no self-respecting translator microbe would dare interpret. At least Crais had plenty of warning that something was coming his direction, and it wasn't happy.  
  
Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Crichton moved unhurried between the tables and into the hallway toward the racket that now emanated from a storeroom in the rear. Suddenly, the shouting stopped and he heard a single, loud thud followed by muffled footsteps. He retreated a couple of steps into an alcove when something warm and fragrant pressed against him from behind. It sure as hell wasn't Crais, unless he'd grown parts on his body, which were now pressing against his back that would make his chest stand out. Besides Crais wouldn't wear anything in fragrance that would alert his presence on a battlefield like the one behind him was wearing.  
  
This was further confirmed when a seductive and deep female voice asked him if he had any intention to retreat any further into her, not that she would mind.  
  
Crichton whirled on the spot and looked in the eyes of the Drannit... most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He wished the others would explain to him what a drannit was. He had seen looks of shock, horror, anticipation and amusement on people's faces when they mentioned it but with no explanation forthcoming he had no idea what to expect.  
  
"Sorry, I was looking for a friend of mine. I had not meant to..."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry for, dear," the female continued, stroking the side of his face. Her eyes roamed over his body. "Nothing to be sorry about at all for."  
  
Crichton colored with her scrutiny, "I... ah... really have to be going."  
  
"Do you now, my dear?" Her hand on his cheek was electrifying and Crichton stood rooted on the spot, Crais momentarily forgotten, until a sharp smack to the back of the head reclaimed his full attention.  
  
"Move away from him," Crais growled, pointing his pulse pistol at the drannit. "Now!"  
  
Her black eyes narrowed at the Sebacean and then turned with smoldering intensity to Crichton. "Does he speak for you, my pet?" she asked, her slender hands playing across his chest.  
  
Crais jerked the human backward by the collar and motioned at the drannit with his gun to return to the main chamber. She eased along the corridor, her willowy figure gliding shadowlike across the wall.  
  
The veins in Crais' forehead appeared ready to pop. "What is the *matter* with you!"  
  
"Now wait a-"  
  
"Did you contact the Relgarians?"  
  
He nodded. "We meet in two arns at the Inn of a Thousand Sighs."  
  
Crais inched with his back along the wall until he was able to peer around the corner, whispering back to Crichton. "We must leave immediately. Stay on my right side and proceed briskly directly toward the door. Do you understand?"  
  
Crichton seemed amused. "There's one slight problem with that plan."  
  
"Agreed, but I will have to risk it. We must hurry before the Luxan-"  
  
Crichton caught him by the arm as he began to round the corner. "Our boy Rash'on just woke up and pointed a finger at both of us. Do you see those two big goons at the door? Guess who they're waiting for."  
  
Not even krelmar could make much of a dent in a Luxan's skull. Crais knew there was little time. Several support beams separated the distance between the pub's front door and the opposite side of the room where the Relgarians had been seated. Even without Crichton as a shield he felt certain he could make it unnoticed out the door, if not for the guards. A small distraction was in order.  
  
"Crichton... do you see that empty table back in the corner?"  
  
The human bobbed his head in acknowledgement.  
  
"I believe the blast caused by a pulse pistol on overload would create a diversion sufficient to allow us to slip out the front door."  
  
"For once, I believe you're right." Crichton extended his hand, palm up, waiting.  
  
Crais eyed his companion's outstretched arm curiously. "What are you waiting for?"  
  
"Give me your gun. You don't think I'm going to use Winona, do you?"  
  
Before he could answer the front door opened and a Tavlek stepped in. His full body armor shone and he was definitely a man of some importance. He looked around the room and spotted the empty table in the corner. He made his way towards it by shoving most of the patrons out of the way. None was stupid enough to tell him to look where he was going and all eyes turned to him.  
  
Crais saw the loss of one opportunity and the gain of another. While all eyes were turned to the progress of the Tavlek he pulled at Crichton's arm and hissed, "Now..."  
  
They were better than halfway to the door when the Luxan screamed at them from behind, "You piece of Yenen dren, I will have your head on the wall and your mivonks on a plate for happy arn!"  
  
"Frelling Luxan trat hole!" the Tavlek roared in response as he raised his gauntlet and blasted a DRD sized hole through the wall alongside the proprietor. Crichton and Crais both hit the deck, knees and elbows pumping double time as they scrambled for the exit along with everyone else in the pub. After fighting his way through a logjam of bodies, all trying to squeeze through the single wooden door at one time, Crichton spotted Crais on the outside, his face shrouded with concern.  
  
"I'm okay," the human called to him. "Let's get out of here."  
  
Crais ignored him completely, instead scrutinizing each of the patrons as they poured out of the building. Inside, the Luxan and his henchmen returned the Tavlek's fire, igniting the Shintok ceremonial banners that adorned the ceiling. Smoke quickly began to belch from the door and windows as the exchange of weapons' fire intensified.  
  
His jaw set in fierce determination, Crais drew his weapon and charged back inside. Crichton shook his head. After all the trouble they had gone through to get out of the building, Crais had to play the savior of the universe. He took his work too serious and really had to loosen up.  
  
Crichton took Winona out of his holster and charged back inside too. He couldn't let Crais do it on his own, whatever he thought of the man.  
  
It was difficult to make out shapes in the bar through all the smoke and Crichton stopped near the door, coughed and looked quickly around. He couldn't see Crais immediately.  
  
"Over here," Crichton could hear Crais hiss from his left. A quick look to his left and he saw Crais crouched behind an overturned table with the drannit and several others huddled alongside him for protection.  
  
As increased stimulant coursed through his veins, the Tavlek swung the gauntlet, spewing energy charges at anything that moved. With Crais returning fire, Crichton dove for cover as an overhead illumination tube shattered into a burst of sparks and glass. At the same time, the Luxan made a run for the bar, rolled over the countertop and dropped behind it.  
  
Seated on the floor with his back to the tabletop, Crichton regarded Crais smugly. "Nice plan. What's next?"  
  
"I believe there are still patrons trapped between the line of fire."  
  
"Patrons?" Crichton asked curtly.  
  
Crais ignored him. The smoke had grown thick and the air began to sting their eyes and lungs. In his bloodlust, the Tavlek was likely to kill not only the Luxan and his men, but also anyone else who got in the way. On the other hand, if the Luxan killed the Tavlek, it was just as likely that he would place the blame for the destruction of his pub on squarely on *their* shoulders. As usual, Crais found himself in the middle with enemies on both sides.  
  
The next volley of fire showered them with chucks of ceiling plaster and a layer of thick, white dust. When Crais uncovered his head he saw Crichton with his arms wrapped protectively around the drannit. Scowling, he gave the human a kick and motioned with his head to take up position on the other end of the table. Crichton saw how Crais crouched at his end of the upturned table; a quick look into the room confirmed his suspicion. Halfway across the room there was another upturned table. Some youngsters were huddled behind that and clinging to each other desperately.  
  
"You are not really thinking..." started Crichton but Crais ignored him.  
  
"Cover me," hissed Crais.  
  
"Well, I am not going to stop you from committing suicide," muttered Crichton. Crichton quickly looked around his end of the table and let loose a volley of fire in the direction of the Tavlek. From the corner of his eyes he saw Crais move like a blur and dive for the table in the middle of the pub, shouting at two boys and a girl concealed there to stay where they were. He rolled behind the table, but quickly sprang to his feet and hunkered down at its far corner. Glimpsing a chair behind him, he grabbed and launched it over the table in the opposite direction and then darted behind the closest support pillar.  
  
Crichton peered from behind the table, ready to fire the microt Crais went on the move again. He saw the Sebacean glance in his direction and nod. Just as Crais started in motion, a pair of arms circled Crichton's waist causing his shot to hit the ceiling above the bar. He looked around and looked into the eyes of the drannit, "Get off me you stupid... stupid... drannit," he scowled in perfect Crais fashion. He quickly looked back, hoping to give Crais support, which he did not have because of the drannit.  
  
Crais had already started on his run, unaware that he had gone without cover. A shot hit him in the shoulder but luckily his spin landed him behind another upturned table. He touched his shoulder and it came away wet with blood. He would kill the Jhumon! Rather than stop and think about his injury, he gritted his teeth and let his anger with Crichton direct his thoughts, he looked around the far end of the table and saw a slight advantage, the Tadek table. To avoid being overturned by disgruntled wagerers, its thick hydrohonium base had been bolted to the floor. Not even a gauntlet could blast through it. From its cover, at that distance he could take out the Tavlek. With any luck, Crichton would keep the Luxan occupied. He glanced down at his hand as a warm stream of red trickled through his fingers and dripped onto the floor. It wasn't enough to worry about. When the Tavlek fired again, he would go.  
  
"The Luxan...he's at the end of the bar trying to get around behind him," a voice called to him.  
  
Crais started to turn toward the speaker, but caught himself. There had been no flicker of recognition in the words. It had been so many cycles that he wasn't even certain.  
  
"His men are both dead."  
  
"Stay down," was all Crais managed to say.  
  
Across the room, Crichton started firing, whether it was to cover the Luxan or to give Crais the fire cover he needed was immaterial. Crais made ready to run for the Tadek table.  
  
When the Tavlek started to return fire, Crais left his position and dove for the Tadek table. He landed rather heavily on his injured shoulder and grunted a moan of pain. He spun round and moved into position. A quick look around the corner of the table assured him that he had chosen his position well.  
  
He ducked quickly back to the cover of the table and waited for another burst of fire from Crichton. To his right he glimpsed the Luxan moving out from behind the bar in an effort to flank the Tavlek. Although he lacked the gauntlet's firepower, the proprietor held the advantage of knowing the floor plan. He also apparently knew it would take a close shot to penetrate the Tavlek's body armor. Crais was already in position, with the Luxan moving in rapidly for the kill. As the distance between the two narrowed, another option presented itself.  
  
When Crichton fired another volley, drawing the Tavlek's attention, the Luxan took aim. Crais rolled onto his back and pumped several quick shots at the ceiling beam above them. With his sharp Sebacean eyes, he had seen the option when the smoke cleared for just a microt. The beam had been on fire. After his quick shots at the beam, he shifted his aim and fired another round of quick shots in the beam almost over his head and then rolled quickly away when the beam came crashing down on the Tavlek with full force.  
  
It had also come down on the Luxan proprietor, trapping the man.  
  
Crichton was already busy helping the others out of the pub the micron the beam came down and the firing had stopped. Crais noticed that the Luxan's men had made their way to the exit as well.  
  
Crais walked over to the Luxan and heaved the beam on his own away from the man bringing the muzzle of his pulse pistol to his chest.  
  
"You are responsible for this!" the proprietor cried out, undaunted by the gun aimed at him.  
  
"You still have your life," Crais replied evenly.  
  
The Luxan propped himself up on his elbows and squinted around at the broken glassware and smoldering furniture. He snorted, grinned and nodded at Crais. "Hezmana...a Charrid and a Colarta broke it up better than this two weekens ago." He looked expectantly from side to side and bellowed, "Rash'on, get your eema in here and clean this mess up!"  
  
The rubble atop the Tavlek began to shift. Crais backed away, alternating his pistol between the Luxan and the pile of debris, which now had muffled, menacing sounds coming from beneath it. A brief look around confirmed there was no one else left inside the building. At the door he holstered his gun and stepped outside, just in time to see Crichton talk to the Drannit. Crais inhaled deeply and shook his head, the Jhumon would never learn. First Crais had to save him from a fate worse than death in the corridor of the pub and then was nearly killed because the Drannit pulled Crichton away. Now he was talking to it.  
  
Crais stepped closer, "I would leave him alone if I were you."  
  
The woman turned around, "And who is going to stop me? You?" She poked a finger at his injured shoulder and Crais cringed. He got hold of her wrist, turned into her and flipped her neatly over his shoulder. He glared at her with a scowl, "Just leave him alone!"  
  
He turned back to Crichton, "Come."  
  
Crichton looked at him and hissed, "Why did you do that for? Is that the Peacekeeper's chat-up line? If so, then it needs some working on. You will never pull a bird that way."  
  
Crais took Crichton's arm impatiently to move him along, "We have wasted more than enough time."  
  
"Hold on a micron," Crichton stopped in his tracks, causing Crais to miss a step, "We don't need to meet the Relgarians for another hour or so." He then noticed the blood on Crais' hand and the damaged shoulder on the tunic. "Besides, you're wounded we need to see that treated."  
  
"Crichton, it's only a flesh wound. It can wait...especially since I remember quite vividly the last time you treated one of my injuries."  
  
The human stepped to block his path. "You enjoy that, don't you?"  
  
"Being shot? Don't be ridiculous. Now get out of my way."  
  
"It's the only power you have left, and you're damn sure not going to let go of it, are you? You *know* what went on between them aboard Talyn-"  
  
"Is that what this is all about?" Crais brushed past him. "I suggest you ask Aeryn."  
  
"What's a drannit?"  
  
"Ask Aeryn," he replied, still walking.  
  
"Who was in that pub?"  
  
Crais halted and after a moment's hesitation, turned back. "That is what I intend to find out now. I will meet you at the Inn of a Thousand Sighs for our rendezvous with the Relgarians in one arn.  
  
# # #  
  
John's Epilogue  
  
The meeting with the Relgarians proved a success.  
  
Their contact aboard the carrier could arrange a meeting with Scorpius on neutral ground, if there was such a thing in this galaxy. Yet he had trusted Linfer, and at least this time he'd be walking into the lion's den with his eyes wide open.  
  
On the other hand, Crais remained a mystery to him. He had witnessed his conversation with the other Sebacean from a distance. Laughter, anger...grief; their emotions ran the gamut during the arn they spent talking. Before parting they exchanged an embrace, awkward at first and then genuine, reluctantly ended.  
  
Stone-faced after their meeting with the Relgarians, the exPeacekeeper strode crisply up the ramp and into the pod without so much as a glance in his direction. He didn't know if Crais would have kept his promise to tell him who the other man was because he decided not to ask. Crais told him that not everything in his life had to do with the Peacekeepers. Maybe for once he was telling the truth. Yet, he did see fit to clear up the mystery of the drannit.  
  
Holy shit...to think that thing actually put its hands on him.  
  
# # #  
  
Crais' Epilogue  
  
They returned to Moya in silence. He was grateful the human did not pressure him for an explanation. Perhaps enlightening him to the details of drannit procreation was enough information for one day. He fought back a smile as he remembered the look on Crichton's face.  
  
He ran a hand along his jacket until he felt the small, reassuring bump in his pocket...the amulet. The circular, silver charm that once decorated his mother's harvest robe still kept the memory of that day clear in his mind. As the oldest he had chores to do while Loewen and Tauvo played outside, although he did not mind. Alone inside, he was free to examine those *special* things that might have drawn a reprimand from mother and father, if they found out. His father's carved bone knife, the scented oil on the dressing table, the charms...  
  
His father burst inside that day dragging Loewen by the arm. He threw aside the rug that covered the trap door to the crawl space beneath the house, lifted the door and dropped his brother to the ground below. After a warning to say nothing about Loewen, his father hurried him outside. At first he worried that his parents knew about the amulet he concealed in his fist, but then he saw the dark uniformed men.  
  
All these cycles he had agonized over why his father chose to give him up rather than Loewen. The shame of not being wanted had festered inside him until the anger it spawned nearly drove him mad. Yet as his feelings spilled out, he learned that Loewen's own resentment was no less.  
  
He had grown up alone, scratching a living from the soil with parents who only spoke favorably of the two sons they had lost. Nothing he ever did could satisfy them, or compare to the way their beloved *Lar* would have done it. Loewen could only dream of the worlds his brothers would visit, the ships they would fly, and the adventures they would undertake. As time passed he grew bitter that he had been the one made to stay behind.  
  
Crais remembered holding dearly to the amulet in the cycles following his conscription, as he from this day forward he would cling to Loewen's words. Father had spoken of him endlessly, of how he trusted him to care for Tauvo. Only him. For a Sebacean, he had died at an early age, his energy consumed as much by grief as the endless arns of labor.  
  
Loewen and his family cared for their aged mother, who lived in a world mostly of her own design. He said she spoke often of her two lost sons, her brave and honorable soldiers. She would be allowed to keep that dream intact.  
  
As he had gazed into the eyes of his younger brother, he saw a man who appeared much older, his shoulders slightly stooped, his face weathered. The man who stood before him had never seen a center halo or flown between the twin suns of Quell. He had never bonded with a Leviathan. Until this day, Crais had only considered what he had lost, not what might have been gained.  
  
Crichton was right about one thing. What he knew was all that remained of his power. And soon the information that he and Talyn spent the last cycle collecting would be put to the test. Whether they succeeded or failed, either outcome served their purpose. They would finally be free.  
  
The End 


End file.
